


Stagnation

by thewriterinpink



Series: Abridged Thiefshipping Long Fics [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series, Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types
Genre: Abridged Characters, Affection, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Canon Gay Relationship, Denial of Feelings, Dream Conversations, Dream Sex, First Love, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Nipple Play, Pet Names, Riding, Rimming, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-12-26 22:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterinpink/pseuds/thewriterinpink
Summary: Marik's overactive imagination finally convinces him to tell Bakura his feelings for him.





	Stagnation

**Author's Note:**

> I write a lot of abridged Thiefshipping in my spare time. I've had this one done for a long time and decided to share it with whoever sees fit to read it. This ship is a very personal thing for me, I love these two with all my heart. I also have no qualms about writing from Marik's pov—in fact, I absolutely love writing from his pov—so this story is entirely from his perspective. Maybe it'll convince others to give his pov a try since it seems his pov is lacking a lot in the fics I've seen before.

“Oh, _Marik..._ ”

 

The voice is playful and sultry, beckoning with very little words involved, yet it clearly has far more power than thought to be because Marik finds himself giving into Bakura’s demand without much more prompting. He doesn’t know how far away he may have been from Bakura, but now he hovers right over him, staring down at his coy smile and half-lidded eyes.

 

“Marik... how much longer do you plan to wait? For this? For us?” His hands slip up Marik’s chest and shoulders and Marik comes to a strange realization that he isn’t wearing a shirt. He swears he was wearing one a few moments ago, but that memory is fuzzy for some reason. “I’m tired of waiting.”

 

“Um,” Marik says, not exactly the most elegant of speakers, “I’m sorry. Uh, where did your clothes go?”

 

Sure enough, Bakura is now very much naked which is a lot to take in. His eyes keep trailing away from Bakura’s face. He breaks out of this when Bakura pulls him closer and presses his lips to Marik’s ear, soft warm breath brushing against the sensitive area and making Marik swallow nervously.

 

“Don’t worry about it, love, I didn’t need them. I need something else. Something only _you_ can provide...”

 

Bakura punctuates this statement by raising his pelvis in a sensual movement, meeting Marik’s in the process. Marik becomes aware of the fact that apparently he isn’t wearing any lower garments either. He squeaks a small sound of surprise that causes a chuckle to emit from Bakura, who nuzzles his nose into Marik’s quickly reddening cheek.

 

“Careful, dear.”

 

Marik is very confused but also aroused so now he’s not exactly certain what he should be doing. He pulls away far enough to look at Bakura again, noticing the glazed over eyes and flush on Bakura’s cheeks. Something growing hard is pressing into his thigh. He takes a sudden breath in like he’s been drowning. Bakura gives him a deeply affectionate look. His hand cups Marik’s cheek.

 

“Are you still hesitant? Even now? Then I guess I’ll have to give you a little _push..._ ”

 

Marik doesn’t even have time to comprehend what Bakura’s saying, he’s suddenly being flipped over onto his back, a small sound of complaint reaching his lips at the mistreatment. He squints up at the body hovering over him, mildly annoyed.

 

“Bakura—”

 

Bakura presses downward, fingers of one hand curling over both their cocks and pressing them close together, startling a gasp and bitten down moan from Marik, to his embarrassment. The other hand rests on Marik’s right shoulder and Bakura leans down further to meet Marik’s lips, quietening down whatever complaint Marik could have thought up in his current condition. Bakura’s lips are soft and inviting and Marik opens up to him as though possessed, hands slowly raising from his sides to curl his fingers in Bakura’s silky smooth locks.

 

Bakura’s tongue brushes against his own, teasing in its execution and daring Marik to take some control of the situation. Marik follows through, chasing Bakura back to his own mouth with not much trouble and shivering at the small pleased purr that vibrates against his lips when he does so. Marik gets used to the give and take of a good kiss so much that he forgets the situation between his legs. It only becomes apparent to him again when Bakura’s grip tightens. He accidentally bites Bakura’s lip.

 

“Frig, ah, sorry...” Marik winces, a hand slipping out of Bakura’s hair so he can cup Bakura’s chin and run his thumb over the split lip soothingly. It’s a bit of a mistake; Bakura playfully nips at it. “Uwa! _Bakura.”_

 

Bakura grins sharply and licks his bottom lip while massaging Marik’s chest pleasantly, fingers splaying over the defined muscles and playing at a nipple. His other hand slowly pumps at their connected cocks. It all makes it so hard for Marik to stay mad at him.

 

“Now,” Bakura says softly, British twang a beautiful song to Marik’s ears, “that wasn’t so difficult, was it? Do you think you can do the rest?”

 

Marik grows tongue-tied. He flounders for a few moments, glancing between Bakura’s very pretty face and the erotic display in Bakura’s hand. The longer he stalls on this, the more Bakura’s lip begins to curl and annoyance begins to settle in his brows. Marik throws away the last apprehension he has to the wayside and wraps his hand over Bakura’s, peering sheepishly under his eyelashes at Bakura.

 

Bakura’s expression brightens again, almost as though it hadn’t been annoyed to begin with, and he slips his hand out from under Marik’s, pressing into Marik’s digits to better grip them. Marik coughs nervously and avoids Bakura’s brown eyes.

 

“You’re warm,” he says because he’s basically a moron. Bakura must be in the best mood of his life though because he doesn’t berate Marik for it. Instead, he leans up and settles his gaze on Marik, lips twisting into that smile that always gets Marik’s heart racing. It’s soft and open and definitely not a look anyone else in the world has ever gotten from Bakura. Marik’s heart’s going to explode.

 

“Well,” Bakura says playfully, hands smoothing themselves over Marik’s chest again, distracting him, “are you planning to move anytime soon, love? We don’t have much more _time_ I’m afraid.”

 

Marik’s brows furrow. He opens his mouth to ask what Bakura means by that, but Bakura impatiently thrusts against him and whines and okay, it doesn’t matter anymore.

 

Marik will admit, it’s definitely a lot different with two instead of one. He fumbles for a few moments, trying to copy Bakura’s previous steady movements, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he moves. Bakura sighs and leans his head down, pressing small kisses to Marik’s cheek and chin, a smile accompanying the affection. The actions stir Marik on and he lets out a calming breath, turning his head enough to capture Bakura’s wandering mouth against his own, stroking more confidently.

 

The fingers of one of Bakura’s hands dig into his hair and pull, not enough to hurt but enough to be noticeable. Marik licks Bakura’s lips open, leaning up into Bakura’s warmth and clinging onto the back of his head to keep him close.

 

“Marik...” Bakura whispers against his mouth, sounding oddly far away. Marik, for some reason he isn’t capable of understanding at the moment, clings onto Bakura harder, in a way that should hurt, but Bakura only sighs another, “Marik...”, and doesn’t comment.

 

“Bakura?” Marik answers. He can’t help but feel Bakura wants something and Marik is in the business of providing that right now. Actually, if it was possible, Marik would supply Bakura with everything he wants. From food to shelter to those cliche young adult romance novels he likes to read so much to fulfilling his revenge to the bedroom to _love and comfort and care and, and..._

 

“Marik!”

 

Marik pulls back, heart filled with so much love he doesn’t know what to do with it. He gazes up at Bakura, expression as soft as he can possibly make it.

 

“What do you want, Fluffy?”

 

“WAKE UP, MARIK!”

 

Marik falls right out of his chair, slamming his chin against the table on the way down and causing his teeth to click together uncomfortably. He groans, groggy and disoriented and in pain. He tries to move, but pauses when his confined cock protests the action. He sucks in a sharp breath of deep discomfort. _Oh, boy..._

 

“Marik,” Bakura says between clenched teeth, “what are you doing sleeping in the council room? You left me alone in the car after you said you would be back in a few minutes. How could you get so bloody distracted you fell asleep?”

 

Marik doesn’t have an answer to that one. His brain is only now starting to catch up to the fact he was sleeping in the first place. His manhood is still very much in denial. The familiar irritated glare directed at the back of his head, very different from the way Bakura had been regarding him a few precious moments ago, should shake it out of its denial eventually though.

 

“Sorry...” Marik mumbles into the floor, feeling all the access blood he still has in the rest of his body settle on his face. _Frig, frig, frig, frig..._ “I didn’t mean to.”

 

“Obviously,” Bakura scoffs. Marik tilts his head enough to catch Bakura in the corner of his eye. He’s far from amused, scowl prominent and not an inch of sympathy for Marik’s recent run in with the edge of the table present. Unlike dream Bakura, this Bakura’s mood is anything but pleasant. Before Marik can think of something to say to hopefully calm Bakura’s ire down to a normal amount, Bakura crosses his arms and stares at him, a strange frown pulling at his lips.

 

“Are you even sleeping at all? This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you asleep somewhere. Are you alright?”

 

Marik stares at Bakura, recognizing the strangeness in his frown as worry. It softens the moody edge in Bakura’s words and makes it sound almost nice. Maybe Marik isn’t as in hot water as he previously thought. After all, Bakura can be forgiving... to him at least.

 

Marik notices Bakura’s waiting for an answer and decides admitting the truth is the best option for him here.

 

“I’ve had a lot on my plate, Bakura. Do you know how much work it is to be the leader of both an evil council and an illegal organization? I have to keep track of so much. I guess it’s been cutting into my sleep.”

 

Bakura sighs, shoulders sagging.

 

“Then maybe, Marik, you shouldn’t have decided to be the leader of both these things.” Bakura stops and tilts his head, expression turning into curiosity. “Why are you still on the floor?”

 

“NO REASON!” Marik snaps up and turns the top half of his body around, quickly bringing his arms up in front of him like he could somehow keep Bakura back with them alone.

 

Bakura’s brows raise. He takes a step forward, eyeing Marik’s odd contortion suspiciously.

 

“Why are you yelling? Are you hiding something?”

 

“I’M NOT!”

 

Bakura sighs again.

 

“Marik, you’re still yelling. Now show me what you’re hiding so we can leave already. It’s almost dark out.”

 

“Frig, really?” Marik searches the wall for the clock hanging there. The evil council had run a little late, it was to be expected. “Dammit, I’m missing one of my shows! I should have taped it!”

 

Bakura rolls his eyes, much closer than Marik remembers him being; he’s practically hovering over Marik now.

 

“Just watch it illegally online like everyone else, Marik. Now, _get off the floor._ ”

 

“N-No, I like it down here. It’s, uh, bumpy?”

 

“It’s filled with germs and dust and grime. Last time I checked, you had an aversion to that.”

 

“W-Well, they do say, there’s a first time for everything! Ahaha... ha...”

 

Bakura glares and latches onto Marik’s arm and pulls. Marik stumbles slightly, biting his tongue at the jostling. He looks up at Bakura, shaking his head.

 

“Bakura,” he tries to reason, “I know you’re annoyed, but you don’t have to fight me like this. I’m not hiding anything you want right now. Promise!” He smiles winningly, but Bakura’s eyes say he caught something Marik hadn’t thought about in that sentence. It makes him nervous.

 

Bakura leans forward until their faces are closer together. His hair falls over one shoulder and brushes Marik’s cheek, the ends tickle and it’s close enough to leave a fruity scent in its wake. Marik swallows, gaze caught by Bakura’s own.

 

“I didn’t say it was something I would want. Why did you word it like that?”

 

Marik thinks this is definitely enough. Time to put his foot down here. He’s not letting himself get exposed like this.

 

“Bakura, enough!” He pulls his arm out of Bakura’s grip with very little strain. Bakura scowls at the display of strength. “I’ll get up when I want to!”

 

Bakura sneers and backs away, hands in fists by his sides as he regards Marik in contempt.

 

“You’re such a child,” he spits venomously. Then he turns on his heel and stomps out of the room.

 

Surprise hits Marik and he tries to track Bakura’s progress, turning his head to watch him.

 

“Wait, wait, Bakura! Ah, please, wait! You’re misunderstanding all of this!”

 

“Bugger off, Marik.”

 

_**SLAM** _

 

Marik stares blankly at the now shut door in complete amazement. He’s always surprised how precarious Bakura’s disposition can be sometimes; how easy it can tip over. Marik didn’t see that one coming at all. He brings his eyes to his lap, scowling.

 

“This is _your_ fault.”

 

* * *

 

It’s thirty minutes later that Marik finds the courage to leave the room. Half of that was because of his _little problem_ , but the other half was because he knows how long it takes for Bakura to cool down and he’s not meeting up with him again until he can safely climb into his car without getting slaughtered over a misunderstanding.

 

It’s not like Bakura’s the type to get confrontational for no reason. It’s clear to Marik that Bakura thinks he’s being purposely shut out of something important. Marik never wants Bakura to feel that way—they’re a team!—so he needs to explain it all in a way that isn’t going to make Bakura question him again. He’s sure he’ll think of something when he gets there... hopefully.

 

He bites his lip. The hallways are beginning to get too dark for his liking. He’s got to turn off all the lights before leaving and usually he and Bakura do that together because Bakura understands how much he hates the dark, but since Bakura is still mad at him, he’s left to fend for himself. Luckily, his cell works for good light, but it doesn’t stop the paranoia knocking around in his brain.

 

Soon, he’s outside, but he can’t sigh in relief because the outside is equally as dark. He thinks he might hear something howling in the distance and another something making a scratching sound. At this point, he’d rather spend an hour in a tense car with Bakura than spend it any longer out here. Jeez.

 

He finds his car where he left it and goes to open the door only to find it locked. That makes him pause and he eyes the door with uncertainty, but this is his car and he’s not standing outside until Bakura allows him in, so he grabs his keys from his pocket and opens it. The light from his phone illuminates the inside of it which makes him realize the reasoning for the door being still locked.

 

Bakura has fallen asleep in the passenger seat.

 

Marik is both relieved and disappointed. He’s glad Bakura hasn’t run off somewhere like he sometimes does when he’s mad at Marik because Marik wouldn’t even know how to start looking for him and that would have been distressing. It’s disappointing though because he doesn’t think it’s good for Bakura to go to sleep mad at him. They should have reconciled.

 

Pushing whatever thoughts he may have about this to the far back of his mind, Marik climbs in, shuts the door (gently) and turns the car on. He shuts off his cell and stares forward for a few moments before settling his gaze back on Bakura. His lips twitch at the trail of drool sliding down Bakura’s chin; he always does that. He looks peaceful and that makes Marik happy.

 

“Alright,” Marik says, determinedly grabbing the wheel and reminding himself it isn’t nice to stare no matter how cute someone is, “time to get going and go to sleep myself. If I’m in my own bed, it won’t matter what dreams I end up having...”

 

Marik grimaces slightly. Those dreams are getting far more common than they really should be. Marik blames it on Bakura’s constant suggestion of the concept around him. It’s getting in his head.

 

And on his sheets. And on the shower wall and floor. And on his clothes.

 

Marik guiltily glaces at Bakura’s calm face before quickly looking away. He tightens his hold on the wheel.

 

Maybe there’s really no wonder he almost got caught.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Fluffy, work with me here.”

 

Marik’s attempting to pick Bakura up to carry him to his bed, but the spirit keeps rolling out of his hold and snuggling closer into the chair, which only makes it harder for Marik to get his arm under him when he presses in like that. He’s like a wiggly worm. Marik snickers despite himself.

 

Bakura eventually settles down again and Marik tries a second time, this time slipping his arms under Bakura much slower than before. Bakura cooperates, sliding into the crook of Marik’s arms with a small mummer of confusion. Marik freezes when Bakura’s eyes flutter open and snap on his face. It doesn’t last though; Bakura stays awake long enough to access for danger in his situation, finds none, and then promptly conks out once more.

 

Marik studies him. He relaxes, relief coursing through him. Bakura can’t possibly hate him if he’s still Bakura’s number one safe zone. They’re going to be okay.

 

Bakura’s far too light in Marik’s opinion; it’s almost too easy to carry him around. He struggles a little when trying to get through the front door (of course, he forgets to open it _before_ picking up Bakura), but Bakura barely stirs, finding Marik’s shoulder a great place to drool instead. Marik’s nose scrunches briefly—it’s not cute when it’s _on_ him—but he settles his attention on his destination. He’s apparently forgotten to turn the lights off before they left to the evil council meeting because the living room and kitchen is awake with light. How typical of him.

 

Bakura grumbles at the impact of all the lights and digs his face deeper into Marik’s shoulder, warm breath hitting Marik’s neck and setting the hairs on end. Marik presses his tongue into his cheek, then passes through the two adjacent rooms and into the hallway. He sighs at the sight of Bakura’s door also being closed. He lolls his head to one side.

 

“Really, Bakura?”

 

He rolls his eyes and struggles some more with this door until it finally allows him entry. He turns on the hanging light by flicking the switch by the door. Bakura’s room is mostly barren compared to Marik’s own with only a bed, a dresser and a bookshelf. The walls are their usual plain white and the bed looks like it hasn’t ever been slept in. The whole room looks very untouched and impersonal. It’s mildly depressing.

 

“How many times have I tried to convince you to paint these walls?” Marik shakes his head and moves to set Bakura on his bed. He pulls Bakura’s sneakers off and places them down on the floor at the foot of the bed, then tries to pull the blanket properly over Bakura’s frame, knowing full well Bakura can fall victim to the cold so easily. Bakura turns away from Marik as he’s doing this and curls into a ball.

 

“Marik...”

 

Marik’s eyes snap up at Bakura. Bakura grows silent, the mummer of Marik’s name lingering between them. Marik swallows and glances down, gently pulling the rest of the blanket over Bakura with such care it would probably annoy Bakura if he were awake. Marik can’t help himself and runs his fingers through Bakura’s soft locks, pulling the hair away from his face so he can peer at it for a few moments.

 

“Sweet dreams...”

 

He lingers for only a second before turning and shutting off the light and telling himself Bakura dreaming of him is not going to keep him up at night. It’s _not._

 

* * *

 

“...What is this, Marik?”

 

Marik stutters.

 

“I-I can explain—”

 

“So this is what you were hiding from me.” Bakura smirks and crosses his arms, eyeing Marik in all his glory. “The something I would want?”

 

“I mean—” Marik glances around, flushing heavily— “I didn’t really mean it that way...”

 

“Did you?” Bakura asks, a purr curling at the edge of his voice. “Well, what if I said I would agree with that statement? Would you try to take it back then, Marik?”

 

Marik feels like he’s being put on the spot here. It’s not like he’s at all surprised Bakura wants him physically; that’s never been the issue. Still, he knows the answer to this.

 

“No,” he admits. He glances up at Bakura, very much aware he’s on the ground while Bakura stands over him. He’s surprised to find Bakura changing that though, bending down onto his knees and crawling closer toward Marik. His hand hovers over the bulge in Marik’s pants and Marik speaks up. “Bakura, what are you doing?”

 

Bakura’s eyes fall into slits and he regards Marik like a cat would its prey. If he could get any more aroused...

 

“I’m going to help you, of course. That’s what you _wanted_ me to do, isn’t it?”

 

Marik wants to deny that fact, but he can’t find the voice to do so. Bakura takes that as a go ahead and promptly reaches for him again, pressing his fingers purposely into Marik’s pulsing cock with the type of precision of someone who knows _far too well_ about what he’s doing. Marik whimpers without meaning to and Bakura’s eyes sparkle with repressed mirth. He leans into Marik and licks at his earlobe before nibbling at it softly. Marik’s eyes flutter shut.

 

“What do you want me to do now that I’m here, Marik? After all, you’re leading this show, aren’t you? I don’t mind _performing,_ just so you know.”

 

Marik gives Bakura a tiny glare that he can’t see.

 

“You’re not a prostitute, Bakura.”

 

“Oh, but I can be...” Bakura pulls back, grinning wide and manic. “Or, at least, for you I can. You want me for yourself, don’t you, love?”

 

Marik bites at his lip. Bakura hums softly, then glances down at his hand, still massaging lightly as they were speaking. Bakura brings his hand up and uses both to undo Marik’s pants, pulling both the pants and the boxers underneath out of the way for easier access to Marik’s cock. Marik watches it pop up at the freedom like he’s watching from afar. Bakura licks his lips and eyes Marik’s cock playfully, one of his fingers coming up to tap the head to incite a surprised mewl from Marik.

 

“You’re so sensitive,” Bakura coos. “You’ve been holding this in for awhile, haven’t you? You should have told me sooner, darling. You don’t need to frustrate yourself. I’m here to please you, you know.”

 

“That’s not true,” Marik speaks up, trying not to thrust up into Bakura’s lingering fingers. “You’re here because I like you.”

 

Bakura only smiles.

 

“I’m going to suck you off now.”

 

Marik can’t help it; this time his hips thrust up, his cock brushing up against Bakura’s hand more substantially. Bakura laughs; the rich deep cackle that Marik finds himself chasing every chance he can, the one that makes Bakura’s head tilt back and tears spring to his eyes. It’s the most beautiful sound Marik currently knows. It brightens every little detail of Bakura’s features.

 

“Ohhh, eagerness looks good on you, Marik.”

 

It’s the last thing Bakura bothers to say before he settles on his belly, wraps his arms around Marik’s bent legs and leans his mouth all the way down on Marik’s cock with the talent of an Olympic swimmer going for gold. Marik scrambles with his hands, digging his nails into the floor under him, and widens his eyes, mouth slightly agape. Pleasure runs his blood hot and a cascade of noises slip out of his mouth before he can think to stop them.

 

“B-Bakura,” he manages to stutter out, brows furrowing, “maybe be a little careful?” Though he’s not certain who he thinks Bakura should be careful for.

 

Bakura hums and pulls off, running his tongue over the base and swirling it over the tip. His eyelids have fallen low and he looks quite pleased with himself. He looks up at Marik.

 

“You taste good. You’ll cum down my throat, won’t you?”

 

Marik nods his head so quickly he temporarily becomes a bobblehead. Bakura smirks and slowly swallows Marik’s cock down once more, sucking and moaning, the latter a nice buzz next to an already pleasurable experience. Bakura begins to bob his head and watching his cock disappear into Bakura’s stretched lips is doing something to him furious.

 

It’s no surprise he cums then.

 

-

 

Marik moans, turning his face into his pillow to muffle the shout. His hand helps him through it, pumping in place of the imagined lips that were there a few moments ago. His orgasm has already broken him out of said fantasy and he settles down, breathing heavily and staring at the far wall, the fairy lights hanging there twinkling back at him. He moves onto his back, thinks for a second, then closes his eyes.

 

-

 

Bakura pulls off of him, swallowing and sticking his tongue out to lick at the dribble of cum sliding down his chin. Marik stares at this display with glazed over eyes. Bakura’s eyes playfully latch back onto him.

 

“Oh, you’re back. I thought I may have lost you.”

 

Marik shakes himself back to consciousness, slightly embarrassed.

 

“Sorry, that was my first blowjob...”

 

“You came back to me for a reason,” Bakura continues as though he didn’t hear him. “What was that reason, I wonder?”

 

Marik closes his mouth and studies Bakura closely. His eyes land on Bakura’s pants, his arousal as desperate as Marik’s previously was. Bakura smirks.

 

“Oh, I see. You didn’t want to leave me to fend for myself.” He then laughs. “You do know I’m just a figment of your imagination, right? You don’t have to be so generous.”

 

Marik sits up and places his hands on Bakura’s hips, looking at him with earnest. Bakura levels his gaze on Marik’s and quirks an eyebrow.

 

“Well, if you insist, I very much can’t do anything about that, now can I?”

 

Marik pushes Bakura onto his back and begins tearing into his pants, eyes flicking over Bakura with an eagerness he hopes Bakura won’t notice. Bakura’s pink cock is begging to be touched now that it’s free and Marik thinks about what to do with it, but Bakura’s chuckling, arms stretched over his head and a knowing look directed at Marik as though there’s a joke he isn’t telling.

 

“That’s not where you really want to go, is it?”

 

“Is it?” Marik repeats, mildly dumbfounded. Where else is there to go?

 

Bakura’s smirk turns devilish and he tilts his pelvis up enough to expose his butt more than his cock, the two round cheeks meeting in the middle by a perky hole. Bakura looks past his hips and raised legs to stare up at Marik, eyebrows raising at his squirming.

 

“You’re a little too obvious, you know that, right?”

 

“Can I really...?”

 

Bakura rolls his eyes.

 

“I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. Now, hurry, before you lose your nerve.”

 

Marik hesitates only a moment. He cups his hands over Bakura’s butt cheeks and squeezes, massaging them as he licks his lips. Bakura’s butt is squishy and the skin soft to the touch; he likes the way the hole stretches and moves with every squeeze and pull. Bakura’s legs settle over his shoulders and his body is mostly off the ground now. The high angle makes Bakura’s cock bounce and drip precum slowly all over Bakura’s stomach and chest, now exposed from his shirt bunching up around his neck.

 

Marik doesn’t hesitant; he runs his tongue over Bakura’s hole slowly, but soon he’s lapping at it, liking the pleasurable sounds that slip from Bakura and bathe over him like a waterfall. He digs his tongue in, past the first ring of muscles, and that earns him an eager moan from Bakura. Bakura’s thighs squeeze by his head at every particularly good twist of his tongue and Bakura’s butt presses into his face, rubbing into him every time Bakura squirms.

 

 _If there is a heaven, it’s this place right here_ , Marik decides deliriously.

 

But all good things come to an end. Bakura cries out suddenly, loud enough to surely wake someone up, and cum squirts down his body. Marik settles Bakura down and carefully licks up the mess on his body, running his hands over Bakura’s hips and sides.

 

“You can stop now,” Bakura says abruptly, sounding far away. “It’s not like I’m the one who can truly appreciate this.”

 

-

 

Marik’s eyes flutter open, a slow frown marring his face. He takes his hand off his cock, now twice spent, and stares up at the ceiling. He’s got glow in the dark stars up there; that one that keeps threatening to peal might fall on him one day, it’s directly right over his head.

 

But that’s not really the issue. Like, it is definitely an issue, but he can deal with that problem some other day. The fact that his dream version of Bakura by this point is telling him to go have the real thing instead _is a bit of an issue._

 

Marik sighs and decides it’s just best to clean up and try to sleep. It’s two in the morning and he already plans to wake up before Bakura to make him breakfast so he isn’t mad at Marik anymore.

 

There’s nothing like newly cooked meat in the morning to brighten Bakura’s spirit.

 

* * *

 

Bakura stumbles into the kitchen like a predator on the prowl.

 

“Where is it?” he says as a way of a greeting.

 

Marik smiles and waves his prongs at Bakura. Bakura watches it, eyes ticking back and forth as though hypnotized. His nose twitches.

 

“Hello, Fluffy! I see you’re chipper this morning.”

 

“Marik,” Bakura growls, showing off his ‘chipper’ mood.

 

Marik laughs. He points at a chair. Bakura looks at it as though he’s expecting the meat to be in it. The disappointed frown that falls on his face is completely genuine. He then gives Marik a pointed glare.

 

“Hey! I’m not trying to hide it from you, just give me a minute.”

 

Bakura ‘tsks’ but sits in the offered chair, frowning moodily down at his empty plate. The expression on his face would probably convince anyone who didn’t know his backstory that this ordeal was the worst thing that ever happened to him. Marik can’t help but be amused by it.

 

Bakura perks up again when Marik settles his meal together on his plate. Marik begins to preen even before any of the food registers to Bakura because he knows he’s gotten in good. No doubts here.

 

“It that a steak?” Is the first thing that catches Bakura’s slowly dilating eyes. He licks his lips, padding the table for his fork and knife. Marik gently slides it over to his overstretching hand and watches Bakura move to dig in, but then he frowns. He tilts his head to look up at Marik, expression for the first time suspicious. “Why a steak?”

 

“Oh, you know, yesterday was kind of—” Marik makes a vague motion with his hand— “so I decided to make it up to you by cooking you a steak. Bon appétit!”

 

“Marik,” Bakura says in that voice that means he thinks Marik has done or said something really stupid and is about to tell him off for it, “steak is not a breakfast food. Besides, all of that was my fault anyway. I overreacted. I can admit to that. After making me wait so long, I was already low on patience. You don’t have to go through all this unnecessary dedication to me.”

 

Marik frowns.

 

“It’s not unnecessary. I hurt your feelings because I was being difficult. You’re my friend. Of course, I’m going to make you your favourite food to make it up to you. I’m really sorry for hurting your feelings, Bakura, and making you feel left out. I never wanted you to feel that way.”

 

“Good, because I _didn’t_ feel that way. You’re just making assumptions!” Bakura scowls at him briefly, but it dies down quickly enough. “I’m sorry for forcing you to do something you didn’t want to do and storming out when I didn’t get my way. Let’s just put this behind us. I won’t even ask now why you were muttering my name in your sleep at that time.”

 

Marik almost falls out of another chair in not even twenty-four hours. He catches himself and laughs nervously.

 

“Um, that—”

 

Bakura suddenly leans his elbow on the table, chin in his hand and smirks, eyelids falling half mass.

 

“Unless, for some strange reason, you _want_ to tell me, hmm?”

 

“N-No, I’m good. It was— it was probably just your ears.”

 

“Was it?”

 

“Y-Yeah.” Marik clears his throat, making sure not to catch Bakura’s gaze. “Definitely.”

 

Bakura’s mischievous smile falls to a straight line. His eyes dull.

 

“Oh. Of course. Why would I think otherwise?”

 

“B-Bakura,” Marik tries, fearful of getting back where they started last night, but Bakura still has a steak and a bunch of sausages and that brings his mood up again. Marik sighs in relief.

 

With Bakura occupied, Marik goes off to make his own breakfast, settling on an omelette. He’s so focused on his task that he doesn’t notice Bakura’s eyes on him until he comments.

 

“Since you brought it to my attention yesterday, I have to point it out. You look exhausted. You didn’t start doing something you could have done in the day instead of sleeping, did you?”

 

“Ummmm,” Marik says, accidentally putting way too much ketchup on his omelette because of the distraction, “I did have... some trouble... sleeping, but a few hours is fine, right?”

 

Bakura’s eyes are narrowed and his fork has stopped its descending. Marik feels like he’s being judged and not measuring up _at all._

 

“I never thought I would _ever_ say this, but... you’re working too hard. You should rest.”

 

“Huh?” Marik turns fully to look at Bakura, frowning. “Bakura, are you feeling okay? Usually, you say I don’t work hard enough.”

 

“Well,” Bakura says, stabbing his fork into a sausage with far more power than needed and glaring at it, “I was wrong. If you’re falling asleep after just sitting down for a few moments, there’s a problem.”

 

Marik places his hands on his hips.

 

“Bakura, I think you’re overreacting. I’m fine. Anyway, weren’t you the one who fell asleep in the car? I had to carry you all the way to bed!”

 

Bakura rolls his eyes, but Marik doesn’t miss the blooming colour beginning to form on his cheeks.

 

“Take a day off for once, Marik. You’re constantly doing something. You probably woke up way too early to make all of this.” He gestures at his meal. “Have breakfast than go back to bed.”

 

Marik opens his mouth to protest, only to find himself yawning instead. Bakura gives him a superior look. Marik has no choice but to give in.

 

“Fine,” he sighs, having to admit Bakura is right. There’s no reason to run himself into the ground; that won’t help him any. “I’ll sleep.”

 

An amused smile settles on Bakura’s lips and he tilts his head, eyeing Marik from under his eyelashes.

 

“I could help you if you think you need it. A nice healthy massage might be exactly what you need to get comfortable and relax.”

 

Marik pauses in the middle of the kitchen, his plate of food in one hand and the other curling at his side as he thought. The familiar flirty edge to the suggestion makes it clear of Bakura’s intentions, but Marik knows very well that Bakura doesn’t think he’ll agree to it; Bakura only ever says things like this for the smallest of chances it might get through to him.

 

“...Sure.”

 

The expression on Bakura’s face freezes. He takes a strained breath in.

 

“What?”

 

Marik tries to play it off as nothing; play it cool and Bakura won’t look too deep into it. The golden rule.

 

“Why not? It could be fun!” He smiles as he sits down. “I didn’t know you knew how to perform a massage, Bakura!”

 

Bakura’s brows are coming together. Probably trying to figure out when the other shoe is going to drop and ruin what sounds so nice to him. It’s not going to happen and Marik wants to be looking at him when he realizes that. The expression he makes when he’s genuinely happy...

 

It makes Marik wonder why anyone in the past wanted to take that away.

 

* * *

 

“Take off your shirt.”

 

Marik fumbles, staring uncertainly at Bakura’s probing gaze.

 

“...Why?”

 

Bakura smirks and steps forward, much further into Marik’s eye-catching bedroom. He tugs on Marik’s crop top and licks his bottom lip.

 

“I need to see your skin to massage the area, Marik.”

 

Marik mulls that over, but he doesn’t really mind either way. If there’s anyone he’s fine seeing his back, it’s Bakura. Marik moves away half a step and pulls the shirt over his head, placing it on the back of his office chair. Bakura’s eyes are drinking him in, but it’s so expected Marik would be worried if he wasn’t.

 

Their eyes meet and Bakura gestures at Marik’s bed.

 

“Lay down on your stomach.”

 

Marik does so, climbing up the height of it and burying his face in a pillow. He tilts his head up though when he hears Bakura moving around. He watches him leave out the bedroom door and frowns.

 

“Uh, Fluffy, where are you going?”

 

Bakura doesn’t answer and Marik’s left alone for a few minutes, straining his ears to try to follow where Bakura might be; if Marik’s ears don’t deceive him, it’s the bathroom. Eventually, Bakura comes back and Marik’s deduction skills were correct. Bakura’s holding a few towels and what Marik recognizes as one of his body oils. Marik sits up.

 

“Hey, Bakura, that’s mine!” Marik attempts to snatch it out of Bakura’s grip, but he pulls it out of reach. Marik pouts. “Do you always have to steal my good products? This is why my shampoo always goes out so quickly!”

 

“Will you quit it?” Bakura scowls. “I’m using it on you anyway, what are you complaining about?”

 

Marik huffs.

 

“Now lay down again. You still want to do this, right?”

 

“Well, yeah, I’m already half naked,” Marik points out, laying back down.

 

“That you are,” Bakura purrs. “Stay still.”

 

Bakura proceeds to set a rolled towel under Marik’s ankles—for support, he guesses—and then lays one down over Marik’s butt and legs, curling the edge over the top hem of Marik’s khakis. He then grabs Marik’s wrists and pulls Marik’s arms out from their curled position near his face, spreading them out into a relaxed position. Marik turns his head into a more comfortable position and looks up at Bakura, who’s eyeing him critically.

 

“Am I doing it right?” Marik asks, just for something to say.

 

“You’re doing your best,” Bakura responds dryly, the sharp popping sound of the oil bottle opening punctuating his statement.

 

“Hey...” Marik chides, but his lips are twitching up. Bakura smiles back, then begins rubbing the oil between his hands. It’s only as Bakura is rubbing the oil into his back that Marik realizes what he’s signed himself up for. Bakura’s going to be _touching him._

 

“Frig...”

 

“Marik,” Bakura says, apparently not hearing the slip-up, “I want you to be honest with me. I know you’re not the _best_ at that...”

 

“I’m not particularly good at lying either, Bakura.”

 

Bakura chuckles. His hands slide over Marik’s neck and shoulders before sliding back down over the slight dips in Marik’s skin. Fingertips that aren’t his own touching that spot causes him to tense then release in a way that’s probably noticeable to Bakura.

 

Bakura catches his eyes, expression serious yet oddly soft.

 

“You experience nerve pain a lot, don’t you?”

 

Marik instantly snaps his gaze away. He doesn’t like talking about stuff like that. Luckily for him, Bakura doesn’t need him to say anything. He can read Marik too well. He pulls his hands away from Marik.

 

“You’re surprisingly good at hiding it.”

 

“I’m just used to it...” The words come out slow and wobbly and Marik presses his face harder into the pillow beneath him.

 

Bakura climbs up onto the bed and promptly settles over Marik, placing his knees on either side of Marik’s hips. Startled, Marik whips his head around, but Bakura quickly pushes his face back down by pressing his hand against the back of Marik’s head.

 

“B-k-ra,” Marik tries to say, lips squishing uncomfortably into his pillow.

 

“Don’t move.”

 

Bakura pulls away slowly and continues speaking as Marik works his jaw and attempts to suck in as much air as he can.

 

“Nerve pain can be soothed through massage therapy. If it helps and you like it maybe we could do it more often...”

 

Marik smiles. It’s just like Bakura to try to take further advantage even before anything has even happened.

 

“I’ll think about it.” He’s not even certain he’ll survive this one time so he’s not about to agree with anything further.

 

Bakura hums as a response and places his palm on the left side of Marik’s lower back and his other palm on top. He then moves in small circles, slowly making his way up Marik’s back and then down again. He does this several times as Marik stares at the far wall, brows furrowing as a thought occurs to him.

 

“We should have put on music. Something really soothing and classical.”

 

Bakura snorts.

 

“You don’t _know_ any classical music. Or own any, for that matter.”

 

“That’s what the internet is for, Bakura! Just search ‘classical music’ on youtube and I bet you can find one of those hour-long playlists just waiting to be clicked on! We could have had it all, Fluffy, but we squandered it!”

 

Bakura scoffs. He changes his movements into separate clawed hands, starting with one at the top of the left side of Marik’s back and the other at the bottom and alternating between the two as he glides them inward.

 

“If you wanted music, you should have just said. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Just be quiet, you’re supposed to be relaxing.”

 

Marik laughs, soft and dreamy.

 

“I am relaxing. This is me relaxing. I’m not moving and my muscles are loosening up, right? That’s relaxing, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, but you’re talking,” Bakura grumbles. “You’re always talking. You’ve never shut up for as long as I’ve known you.”

 

“I like to talk,” Marik says. He pauses. “I like talking to you.”

 

“Is that so?” Bakura says, his voice sounding more breathy than before. Bakura sends his knuckles slowly up the left side of Marik’s back and over his shoulder, then back down. “I like listening to you.”

 

“Hmm, w-what?”

 

“You heard me.”

 

Marik flushes. He wishes he could see Bakura’s face.

 

Bakura brings his knuckles up Marik’s back one last time before opening his hands and rubbing circles with his fingers in the area over Marik’s shoulder blade. He makes his way over to Marik’s right side before starting the entire process from the beginning on that side.

 

“How do you feel?” Bakura asks, breaking Marik out of the daze he’s managed to settle into.

 

“Tired. Happy. Satisfied. I think you have magic fingers, Bakura.”

 

Bakura’s chuckle is deep and inviting, causing a shiver to run through Marik. He leans forward during the current sweeping movement he’s making with his hands and whispers in Marik’s ear, his hair tickling Marik’s shoulder.

 

“I can think of another place my ‘magic fingers’ could massage.”

 

Marik’s cock twitches in his pants and his nails dig into his bed, a small breath of emotion leaving his lips. Bakura doesn’t say anymore, instead pulling back to continue the last of his ministrations, but he doesn’t need to. He’s got his point across.

 

Marik closes his eyes. If he pretends not to have heard Bakura, it can all just blow over.

 

The room grows quiet after that, only the sound of their breathing filling it. Bakura’s presence, instead of being a hindrance, is much more of a comfort, his hands soft and his body warm. Marik begins to drift off, which is technically what he was supposed to be doing in the first place.

 

He’s asleep within minutes.

 

* * *

 

Marik’s blurry eyes settle on a familiar face, smirking wide and sultry. Bakura quirks an eyebrow and chuckles.

 

“We meet again.”

 

Marik blinks a few times and then frowns. This is a dream. He knows it’s a dream because Bakura’s naked and lying in his bed. Bakura might be forward, but he’s not _that_ forward.

 

“Bakura,” Marik says. He pulls at the blanket under him and holds it out to Bakura. “Please cover up. It’s chilly.”

 

More amusement pulls at Bakura’s lips. He turns onto his belly, the curve of his butt enough to distract Marik. He clicks his tongue.

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t want to see me naked, but I do know better. You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

 

Marik sighs. Even in his dreams, Bakura can talk circles around him.

 

“I want to be clear, Marik.” Bakura’s hand reaches behind him and squeezes one of his butt cheeks. His gaze is half-lidded. “You have a problem. Are we on the same page about that?”

 

“Why are you doing that?” Marik asks, trying but failing to tear his gaze away from Bakura’s butt. That was probably an answer enough. He changes gears. “What problem?”

 

Bakura sends him an unimpressed look.

 

“So we’re not on the same page. How typical of us. Do I need to spell it out for you?” When Marik just stares uncomprehendingly, Bakura rolls his eyes. “If you have feelings for someone you should say it. Nothing happens through stagnation, Marik.”

 

Marik avoids Bakura’s eyes and bites his lip.

 

“I know, but...”

 

“If it was me I would have said something by now.”

 

“Then isn’t that the answer?” Marik can’t keep the irritation from his voice. “If you felt the same way you would have said something already! You have no problem speaking your mind when you want something.”

 

Bakura sighs and places his chin in his hands, studying Marik with very little sympathy.

 

“Sometimes I’m convinced you have nothing but air up in that head of yours. Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps I _tried_ to tell you my feelings, but was met with such resistance that now I’m just staying back and waiting for you?”

 

“But all you’ve ever said before was sex jokes and innuendos. That’s hardly the language of love, Fluffy.”

 

Bakura smirks.

 

“It’s all I know how to say. I’ve never been in love before. Neither have you so I can understand the hesitation. Still, I’m not going to wait forever, you know. Time ticks ever forward, love. You need to make a move before I give up on you.”

 

Marik swallows. Is it really normal to be this nervous while talking to the fake version of your crush?

 

“What if you’re wrong? What if it’s only ever just been sex and nothing else?”

 

Bakura shrugs, looking like he’s beginning to find the topic boring.

 

“I don’t have an answer to that. I’m only the manifestation of your desires. Your subconscious only knows so much. You have to find out the rest for yourself.”

 

Marik is silent as he mulls this over. Eventually, he can’t help but comment.

 

“Did you really have to be naked for this?”

 

“Of course.” Bakura rolls over onto his back and plays with one of his nipples. “I don’t want you to get bored, do I? It’s so hard to keep your focus. Besides, it’s freeing.”

 

Marik frowns.

 

“I can’t think when you do that in front of me.”

 

Bakura sits up on his elbow and leans into Marik, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him up to his level. The corner of his lips twists slyly upward.

 

“Then stop thinking.”

 

Marik’s mouth pops open for words, but he gets interrupted by Bakura’s lips, soft and seeking warmth against his own.

 

And then he wakes up.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh, Bakura, how many times do I have to explain this? You’re supposed to shoot the other guys, not me.”

 

“But your head always looks so much more tempting when it’s right in front of me,” Bakura says, pointing his video game character’s gun directly at said head. “I like watching you die. It makes me laugh.”

 

“That’s concerning coming from you.” Marik gives Bakura a worried look, but Bakura still has his attention on the laptop in front of him, eyes alight with vigour and blood lust.

 

Marik stares at his own laptop and takes a slow breath. Playing a shooting game with Bakura is like pulling teeth. He’s so trigger happy.

 

“Here’s an idea. Why don’t you lead the way this time and I’ll cover you? That way the urge to kill me won’t come over you again. That sound nice?”

 

“Don’t patronize me,” Bakura snaps, sending Marik a quick glare. “You’re too slow anyway. We’d get nowhere if I didn’t bloody push you.”

 

Marik frowns as the memory of his dream from yesterday comes back to him at Bakura’s well-chosen words.

 

“Yeah, that’s true...”

 

“If you have time to talk, you have time to shoot something.”

 

Marik rolls his eyes.

 

“Maybe I’ll start shooting _you_ in the head this time. How’d you like that?”

 

“Do that and don’t be surprised to find yourself bleeding out on the couch.”

 

Marik pouts.

 

“That isn’t fair. You’re cheating!”

 

Bakura smirks as he levels his gun on the unsuspecting group of thugs he’s led them to. He chuckles darkly.

 

“It’s not my fault that I’m just _so_ good at the game, Marik.”

 

“Threatening me with death in real life isn’t part of the game, Bakura!”

 

Bakura snickers further. Marik watches him shoot every single bad guy with perfect precision. He doesn’t even get hurt. Marik has to admit, even with the constant friendly fire and threatening him with violence, Bakura really is good at this game. So good that Marik wonders why he’s here too; all he’s mostly done is die (though all of that has been Bakura’s fault).

 

“Bakura?” Marik closes his laptop and sets it on the table in front of him. He turns around to face Bakura and crosses his legs on the surface of the couch. “Are you trying to distract me again?”

 

Bakura pauses in the process of looting and scowls at him.

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“I have a lot of work to do. I need to plan out the next evil council meeting and if I don’t keep track of my Steves they start wandering off on their own. If I’m neglectful, they die.”

 

“Yeah.” Bakura turns his face sharply away. “So what?”

 

“ _Bakura._ ”

 

“Fine,” Bakura admits. “I might be trying to distract you. But can you blame me? Either you work yourself half to death or you don’t do any work at all for long periods of time. I’m trying to put you on a more reasonable schedule.”

 

“It’s my brain,” Marik says, feeling sheepish, “it doesn’t cooperate most of the time. Either I’m bored or too absorbed, not to mention I lose track of time so easily. It’s nice of you to try to tame it, Fluffy.”

 

Bakura looks at him and frowns. He opens his mouth, hesitates, then closes it again. He shakes his head, a look of defeat settling heavy on his features. Marik frowns too and reaches forward, surprising himself with his own forwardness when he smooths his knuckles gently over Bakura’s cheek. He swallows uncertainly when Bakura’s brows pinch at the action.

 

“What’s on your mind?” he asks much too quietly.

 

For awhile it looks like Bakura will refuse to answer. His face twists irritably and the words that do eventually escape his tight lips are strained and mumbled and slow.

 

“I... care... about you. I’m not trying to... tame you, I’m trying... to keep you _alive._ Stop making me... worry.”

 

Marik sucks in a sharp breath and leans away. He searches Bakura’s face and awkwardly glances in between them, noticing Bakura’s hand in a fist just another reach away. Indecision hits him.

 

_“If you have feelings for someone you should say it. Nothing happens through stagnation, Marik.”_

 

Tentatively, he slides his hand over until he can cover Bakura’s fist with it and he squeezes, strong enough to give away his mounting anxiety. He slowly brings his attention back to Bakura. Bakura’s face is red from both embarrassment and attraction. He doesn’t pull away.

 

There’s a moment of pause before Marik allows himself to put anything into words.

 

“Have I ever told you before that you’re my best friend?”

 

Bakura’s wondrous expression turns into a scowl within a second.

 

“No.”

 

“Um, well, you are. I want to take care of you and keep you safe and make you so happy the bad can’t touch you ever again.”

 

“Marik...” Bakura says, halts. “That sounds...”

 

“And I know I kind of already do that or at least try to. I try really hard actually.” Marik laughs awkwardly, glancing toward the TV and the blinking light of one of the game systems laying there he’s forgotten to turn off again. “I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this before, but you’re my whole world, Fluffy.”

 

Bakura frowns at him, fingers beginning to unravel from their clenched state under Marik’s palm. Marik takes the initiative to grasp Bakura’s hand properly, lacing their fingers together and taking a deep breath. He scoots closer to Bakura and pushes his free hand down on the laptop on Bakura’s lap, closing the screen and taking it and placing it beside his own. Bakura silently watches him, an apprehensive edge to his being. Yet he lets Marik continue uninterrupted.

 

“Th-That’s why, I think, I mean, _I hope_ that something might... might be able to happen...”

 

Marik forces himself to look at Bakura then. He’s never exactly thought much about his age, but he feels it now; he’s just an inexperienced teenager hopelessly and catastrophically in love with his best friend and desperate to somehow convey it. Bakura usually seems like the opposite, filled with so much experience and knowledge and _time,_ but now he’s looking at Marik like they’re somehow the same and Marik must really be a moron because, of course, being a spirit has never stopped Bakura from being a teenager too.

 

“ _Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps I_ tried _to tell you my feelings, but was met with such resistance that now I’m just staying back and waiting for you?”_

 

Yeah, he’s a moron.

 

“Bakura—” he takes a breath, braces himself— “I’m in love with you.”

 

Bakura’s mouth pops open and his eyes widen and now Marik has no choice but to wait for whatever response Bakura might have to his heartfelt confession. Bakura’s always been blunt; there’s not going to be anything within his words that’ll soften the blow if Marik’s rejected. Marik’s stripped himself bare with the chance of being stabbed in the heart.

 

Bakura’s well-trained eyes flick over Marik’s face. He swallows and looks almost confused.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

Marik falters. That’s not exactly the response he was expecting. After a moment of hesitation, he quickly nods his head.

 

“Yeah, yeah! Of course, I’m serious! How can I say that and not be serious?”

 

Bakura scrutinizes him further, still looking unconvinced.

 

“This really isn’t a joke? I’m not misunderstanding anything?”

 

It’s Marik’s turn to be confused.

 

“Uh, is there a way to misconstrue the words ‘I’m in love with you’?”

 

Bakura’s expression darkens.

 

“With you? Of course, there is.”

 

“Bakura,” Marik whines and he puts his other hand on Bakura’s shoulder, shaking it slightly, “I said it like that so you would understand! I’m not trying to say ‘I love you like a friend’, I’m trying to say ‘I’m gay and interested and want to- to-’”

 

“Yes?” Bakura leans into him, staring intently and biting his lip. “Go on.”

 

Marik flushes. His grip on Bakura’s shoulder tightens and he finds himself using it as leverage to pull Bakura even closer to him. He licks his bottom lip, levelling his gaze on Bakura’s proper.

 

“I don’t know. I just don’t want to be ‘just friends’ anymore. I’m so tired of it. I— I know you find me attractive, but do you...” Marik closes his eyes. “Do you love me too?”

 

Bakura is silent for a few moments, then a sigh leaves his lips.

 

“Is that the problem?” he asks, sounding annoyed. “All this waiting and all I needed to do was tell you a simple truth?”

 

Marik peeks one eye open, hopeful.

 

“You mean...?”

 

Bakura’s eyes narrow.

 

“Do you really think I’m the type of person to spend so much time with someone just because I’m attracted to them? I know your ego might blind you, Marik, but you certainly aren’t the only attractive boy in the world. I could find plenty of equally attractive men anywhere, yet I’m still here. For some stupid unfathomable reason, I fell in love with you.” Bakura’s expression softens and becomes more vulnerable. “So don’t play with me like this, Marik.”

 

“I’m not.” He looks at Bakura with all the earnestness he can muster and tries to ignore how hard his heart is beating in his chest. “I promise, I’m not.”

 

“Then prove it,” Bakura demands. “Kiss me.”

 

That makes Marik’s eyes snap to Bakura’s pale pink lips. He’s imagined kissing Bakura a million different ways, but a first kiss still makes him nervous; it’s not like he actually knows how to kiss, it’s all been pretend. Still, once he makes a decision, he’s hard-pressed to change his mind and he’s never wanted anything more than finally allowing his true feelings to run free, especially now that he’s aware Bakura has always felt the same way.

 

So he listens. He leans the rest of the way, feeling Bakura’s breath subtly puff out against his face and then he tilts his head and presses forward. Just before their lips connect, Bakura lets out a soft sound of surprise that is swallowed up quickly by Marik’s lips. Bakura’s own lips are soft like the petals of a flower and warm like a good meal. Marik knows just pressing his lips against Bakura’s isn’t very much so he tries moving. He almost thinks he might be doing it wrong because it takes Bakura longer than expected to follow, but that thought dies the moment Bakura’s lips twitch up into a pleased grin and he’s suddenly hit with the full intensity of Bakura’s passion for him.

 

Marik’s body bounces as his back hits the couch and Bakura crawls on top of him, pushing Marik’s wrists into the spot over his head. Bakura uses his teeth to pull on Marik’s bottom lip and chuckles darkly, quickly capturing Marik’s lips again and licking his way into his mouth. Marik has no choice but to obey and tries to keep up with Bakura’s enthusiasm as best he can. His whole mouth is tingling with sensation and _this is a far more heavy kiss than expected._

 

Marik feels dumb and clumsy, a fish out of water scenario, and he can’t do anything with his hands like he wants to. Bakura’s body hovering over him isn’t quite touching anything specific and Marik doesn’t want to look desperate by pressing up into Bakura’s warmth and grinding into him, so he’s stuck floundering with his uncooperative lips, barely copying a single move Bakura can do so effortlessly. The upside is that Bakura at least enjoys his two steps behind kissing; he’s moaning and mewling and sighing pleasantly.

 

Eventually, after what must be such a long time, Bakura lets up, breathing heavily and eyeing Marik with bright expressive eyes. His expression is close to manic with how excited he is and he purrs at whatever state Marik must be in, bending down again to nuzzle in the spot where Marik’s neck meets his jaw. The affection is further unexpected, but is far from unpleasant and Marik’s glad for the brief moment of pause for him to pull himself together before Bakura straight up murders him.

 

“Bakura,” Marik croaks, “can you let go of my wrists, please?”

 

“Hmm?” Bakura muses, his fingers twitching and digging into Marik’s skin. “Sorry, I didn’t notice.”

 

Bakura lets go and Marik instantly uses the opportunity to creep his hands up Bakura’s sides, sneaking them past the thin fabric of his shirt. The skin there is hot like an oven and Marik smooths his hands over Bakura’s lower back in an awestruck caress. He sighs like a lovesick fool.

 

“I love you so so much,” Marik says. “I want to show that to you. How can I show that to you?”

 

Bakura brings his lips to Marik’s ear, voice dipping low and sensual; with Bakura’s accent it’s almost too much for Marik to take.

 

“Make love to me.”

 

Marik’s body shakes and he’s dumbstruck for a few moments. An odd sound he thinks might be a strangled chuckle breaks his silence and he stares up at Bakura as the spirit sits up to look at him; he’s far too glorious and otherworldly to be saying stuff like that to Marik like it’s nothing.

 

“Um, isn’t that... isn’t that a few steps too early, Bakura?”

 

Bakura frowns at him.

 

“Why wait? You’re hard, I’m hard, what’s left to discuss?”

 

To further his point, Bakura presses down on him, their crotches finally lining up with a startling amount of friction. Marik bites back a whine.

 

“A-A date. I haven’t taken you on a date!”

 

Bakura rolls his eyes.

 

“Marik, you’ve taken me to plenty of places alone I’ve privately considered dates. I don’t need to go on another bloody date!”

 

“You thought those were dates...?” Marik’s voice is faint. “I was just trying to give you a good time.”

 

“Yes, I know.” Bakura places his hands on Marik’s shoulders and grinds against him. “Now I want to have a good time with you inside me.” His nails dig into Marik’s skin, expression becoming pleading. “I need it.”

 

Marik’s breath comes out shaky. It’s hard to think with his cock rubbing up against Bakura’s. He’d be fine if it stayed like that, just heavy petting and sticky boxers, but that’s only because going all the way is in an entirely different league of its own. He’s already insecure over the way he kisses, he doesn’t know if he’s ready to be insecure about _everything else._

 

Yet it’s not like he doesn’t want to. He’s fantasied about it constantly; it’s easy doing so when Bakura’s never been subtle about his preferences. He thinks he’s been pretty authentic on Bakura’s part at least, but he doubts he’s anywhere close to the version of himself in his head. And, oh frig, what about the fantasy version of himself in Bakura’s head? How can he live up to that one, the most important one?

 

“Marik,” Bakura says, bringing him back to the present, “you’re doing that thing you do where you start to overthink everything and throw yourself into a panic. Whatever has got you hesitating, let it go. I want you because I love you and that’s that.”

 

Marik chews on the inside of his mouth. He nods.

 

“Let’s go to my bedroom then.”

 

* * *

 

By the time they’ve made it to the bed, Marik’s lost his shirt. Bakura took it off in the hallway and pushed Marik against the wall so they could kiss again. Now he’s out of breath, but that’s not stopping him from pushing Bakura into the mattress and trying as hard as he can to look suave.

 

“Let me take your clothes off, Fluffy.”

 

Bakura bites his lip, clear humour dancing behind his eyes (so the suave attempt isn’t working), but he nods and lies back, holding his arms over his head. Marik pushes Bakura’s shirt up his body, revealing pale smooth skin and a dusting of snow white hair. He presses his thumbs into Bakura’s nipples and bends down to softly kiss his chest, slowly leading his way down to his navel. He reaches up to pull the striped shirt off completely, leading his mouth back up to suck at a spot on Bakura’s neck and gently caressing his sides. Bakura's hand curls in his hair while the other grips at his shoulder; unlike Marik previously, Bakura has no qualms about leaning into him and grinding on him.

 

“Nnn, Marik...”

 

Marik doesn’t know how long he has to suck for it to show, but he figures that’s the goal (that and making Bakura feel good, of course). When he pulls back a few minutes later, he checks hopefully and feels just a tad giddy at the mark that he’s managed to leave behind. He brings his fingers up to press in on the bruise and Bakura regards him with heavy eyes.

 

“Love—” Bakura grabs his hand and leads it downwards, curling Marik’s fingers around the front of his jeans— “let me out of these, would you?”

 

Marik nods. He undoes the button and pulls down the zipper, grabbing the edges of Bakura’s pants and underwear; best to get both of those out of the way at the same time. Bakura makes a pleased sound at being let free. His cock springs up and catches Marik’s attention, making him swallow tightly and for his eyes to glaze over; it’s no surprise to Marik that Bakura’s penis is as dangerously pretty as the rest of him.

 

Marik is overwhelmed now that Bakura is completely naked; the real thing is a lot different than whatever he thought up. There’s a lot going on and a lot of desires running through his blood and he’s almost afraid to touch Bakura again. It’s like walking into a museum and being suddenly told he can touch the displays; where does he even start?

 

Well, Bakura’s legs are nice and pretty, slim with a touch of defined muscle to them and his ankles look deceptively small and fragile. There’s so much smooth and flawless skin it seems to go on forever. His thighs are plump and lead smoothly to a perfectly sculpted butt.

 

“Marik,” Bakura calls out to him, pushing his toes into Marik’s clothed thigh, “you haven’t gotten me undressed just to stare at me, did you?”

 

Marik licks his lips and shrugs. He very well could just stare at Bakura for hours if he was allowed to, but that isn’t what he wants to do right now. Slowly, Marik pulls one of Bakura’s legs to him and presses a feather-light kiss into the ankle, staring at Bakura as he leads his way up the leg with kisses. He watches as Bakura’s expression dips into confusion and wonders if sex has ever been this loving for Bakura before; that’s why he’s looking at Marik like that, isn’t it?

 

“Marik...” Bakura says uncertainly, looking like he wants to pull his leg away.

 

“Shhh,” Marik responds, smiling slightly, “it’s because I love you. I told you I wanted to show you that, right?”

 

“Right...”

 

“Then let me show you.” He kisses the underside of Bakura’s knee, smile widening. “I love you, Bakura.”

 

Bakura lets out a slow breath. His cheeks are already red, but they seem to grow in hue at Marik’s words as he avoids Marik’s gaze.

 

“I love you too, Marik...”

 

Marik beams. His heart explodes with love and he nuzzles Bakura’s leg. Kissing down the rest of the way, he eventually reaches closer to the place where Bakura’s thigh meets his pelvis. He nibbles at the skin there and after some deliberation, slides his other hand over Bakura’s other leg and thigh before gently wrapping it around Bakura’s cock and running his thumb over the head. He mouths at Bakura’s thigh and sucks; maybe he can make another mark here too.

 

“Ahhh,” Bakura startles out the sound, “what took you so long?”

 

Used to Bakura’s typical grousing, Marik doesn’t answer. Instead, he’s stalling to try to work up the nerve to do what he’s been leading up to this whole time. It can’t be too hard, right? Gay guys and straight women do it every day. Stroking Bakura gives him a good idea on his length; he’s sure this must be around average. Piece of cake.

 

Marik sits up. He wets his lips and works his jaw, nervously pulling at his pants. He looks at Bakura’s cock in his hand and squeezes, getting used to the feeling of it under his palm. He sighs out a shaky breath.

 

“Mmm, Bakura?” He waits until he gets Bakura’s full attention, dark eyes staring right at him and mouth open in a soft pant. “Can I...put it in my mouth...?”

 

Marik almost slaps himself. That isn’t exactly the most elegant way of putting it. Yet how else is he supposed to say it?

 

Bakura’s eyebrows raise. He tilts his head.

 

“You want to give me a blowjob?” At Marik’s hesitant and somewhat embarrassed nod, Bakura smirks, excitement sparkling behind his eyes. “Well, then, go ahead. I don’t see why you think I would stop you.”

 

“I’m just asking,” Marik says. “I don’t want to surprise you.”

 

Bakura snorts and looks away.

 

“Funny that. I’ve been surprised by you every day. There’s no point in attempting to curve that now.”

 

“Oh.” Marik doesn’t know how to respond. He can’t tell if Bakura’s annoyed at him or not.

 

After they stay in silence for a few breaths where nothing happens, Bakura shoots him a glare.

 

“I’m horny, please do _something_ about it already, Marik.”

 

Marik jumps and flushes at Bakura’s frank words. Settling closer to Bakura’s erection, he holds the base and takes a quick breath to steady himself. It looks a lot bigger up close. Precum has begun to collect at the tip and Marik tentatively runs his tongue over it to taste it, then quickly pushes forward to properly put the penis in his mouth.

 

Only to choke two seconds later.

 

Marik pulls back as quickly as he started and coughs heavily. Bakura makes a sharp whining sound as he does so and it’s only as Marik’s calming down that he remembers in his bid to escape the situation he accidentally scratched his teeth against the sensitive area. He quickly accesses Bakura’s condition for damage, but he may have liked it because his expression is pleasure instead of pain. That’s good because all Marik can feel right now is utter mortification.

 

“Marik,” Bakura says in a thick voice, yet authoritative, “don’t put it in all at once, you won’t be able to handle it. You can get me off fine with whatever you can do. _Just put your mouth back on me right_ _bloody_ _now._ ”

 

Marik isn’t certain if this is supposed to be a pep talk, but he isn’t denying Bakura anything after that sorry display he just produced. Marik pushes his insecurities far far away and goes down on Bakura again, this time taking only the head and then some into his mouth and working with that. He makes certain to keep his teeth away this time and sucks, confidence sparking back to life when the action sets Bakura off into a moan. He lets a little bit more in—about half now—and bobs his head like every porno he’s ever seen. He’s fast to realize he can just use his hand on the part he can’t seem to get to, though that makes it more of a half-blowjob half-handjob situation.

 

The most important part is if Bakura likes it. The sounds coming from him seems to indicate he does, but Marik still looks up at him just to be certain. Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea at all; the sight Bakura makes is everything and more. Marik certainly didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Bakura looks even more pretty than before. His fantasies look drab next to this; Bakura is so much more alive and bright and _so so lovely._

 

Is it possible to fall more in love with someone after every little sound or breath they make? Surely the mere sight of Bakura can set any man aflame.

 

“Marik,” Bakura sighs his name oh so sweetly and reaches up to push his fingers through Marik’s hair, brushing it out of his eyes, “y-you’re doing _amazing._ I’m so close.”

 

Oh, so apparently he is doing _way_ better than he thinks he is. If Bakura’s close that means he’s going to cum which means Marik hasn’t screwed anything up. All Marik really ever wants is to make Bakura happy, but it’s hard when he doesn’t know what he’s doing. To be told he was doing it right all along is a major relief.

 

He keeps up with what seems to be working. Bakura’s caressing his fingers against the hollow of Marik’s cheek, soft and gentle and _sweet,_ and it causes his eyes to flutter shut. Affection from Bakura might be a weakness of his, he’s quickly becoming addicted to it. He’s so preoccupied with such a small yet beautiful thing that the sudden shout from Bakura startles him, but not as much as the cum filling his mouth. Marik pulls back without thinking.

 

His lips and right cheek instantly gets covered and he sputters. He can’t do much other than swallow what’s in his mouth and then guiltily grab Bakura’s shirt to wipe up the rest. Still, his actions made Bakura cum so he can’t be too bothered by his lack of foresight. He’s even filled with some pride as he watches Bakura calm down from his high and stare at Marik with hooded eyes.

 

“Good?” he asks and instantly feels dumb saying it. Isn’t the aftertaste of cum in his mouth answer enough?

 

Bakura smirks coyly and gestures him closer, wrapping his arms around Marik’s neck when he leans into the spirit and sighing contently.

 

“Very.” He plays with the ends of Marik’s hair and eyes Marik from under his eyelashes. He then leans forward until their lips brush when he talks. “I want you inside me.”

 

Marik presses his body closer and winces slightly when he notices he’s still wearing his khakis; they chafe uncomfortably against the front and he bites his tongue. Bakura’s eyebrow raises and he looks down in interest, hand sliding down Marik’s chest to reach the bulge.

 

“Is your trousers just that tight or are you really packing that much?”

 

“Ummm,” Marik says, thrown off by the question and eyeing the hand hovering but not touching his privates, “how much is ‘that much’?”

 

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

 

Bakura is pulling at his belt and undoing the button and zipper on his pants before Marik can say anything about it. Sudden anxiety bubbles up inside him and he’s speaking, the words rushing out of him quickly.

 

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

 

Bakura stops in the process of pushing down Marik’s pants and frowns in disbelief.

 

“I’m sure there’s nothing you possess that could possibly disappoint me.”

 

Marik laughs nervously. Usually Marik would agree—he knows he’s hot—but even he can’t live up to _every_ expectation. Genetics can only do so much.

 

Bakura seems to notice Marik’s hesitation because he stops. He cups Marik’s cheeks and glares at him.

 

“You weren’t disappointed when you saw my penis, were you?”

 

Marik gasps and quickly shakes his head, grabbing Bakura’s wrists in a small act of comfort.

 

“Of course not! It’s gorgeous!”

 

Bakura smirks.

 

“That’s what you were thinking, huh...?” But he shakes his head, getting himself back on track. “If that’s how you see mine, you shouldn’t worry about yours.”

 

Marik nods slowly and relaxes.

 

“I just want to make you really really happy, Bakura.”

 

“Hush.” Bakura moves his hands back to Marik’s pants. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been. That’s all you.”

 

Marik smiles and quiets himself down by kissing Bakura. He’s pushed onto his back and he attempts to help Bakura by kicking his legs to get the articles of clothing off them faster. Cool air rushes in against him and he shivers. His cock welcomes the freedom though, bouncing up between them eagerly and rubbing against Bakura’s stomach as he begins to pull away.

 

Bakura sits up on his knees, pressing the tips of his fingers from one hand against his lips and eyeing Marik hungrily. He makes a pleased purr in the back of his throat that sets Marik’s whole body on fire.

 

“Oh, _yessss._ Excellent.”

 

Marik swallows, fingers digging into the blanket underneath him and looks at Bakura under his eyelashes.

 

“R-Really?”

 

Bakura scoffs and rolls his eyes.

 

“Yes, really. If you ask me, I don’t know what you were worried about. You’re perfect in every way—” Bakura smirks slyly, reaching out to loosely stroke Marik’s bare member—“including here. _Especially_ here.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Bakura begins climbing up on him, gaze heavy with lust. “Now let me go for a ride, love.”

 

Marik sputters as he realizes what’s going on and quickly grabs Bakura’s hips to stop him from jabbing himself down on Marik without any preparation. He looks up pleadingly at Bakura and rubs his thumbs absentmindedly into the bony parts of Bakura’s hips. Bakura scowls down at him, clearly irritated at the interruption.

 

“Bakura, wait—! If you do it like that, you’ll get hurt.” And squeeze Marik’s dick off in the process, _ouch._ “B-Besides,” Marik says, trying to catch Bakura’s interest, even if what he’s about to say embarrasses him slightly, “I want to... to finger you open...”

 

Bakura’s expression fills with desire again. He places his hands on Marik’s shoulders and rubs in circles, leaning down far enough for their noses to brush and for his hair to frame the both of them.

 

“Of course, love,” he whispers lowly. “Where’s your lube?”

 

“Side table.” Marik’s eyes slide to it, but Bakura grabs his chin to pull his gaze back to him. He kisses Marik hard, nibbling at his lip before pulling away.

 

“Don’t move,” he demands against Marik’s lips. He then crawls away, giving Marik a great view of his butt and the small natural sway of his hips. How mesmerizing.

 

He’s broken out of his trance when Bakura clicks his tongue in aggravation. He looks at Marik over his shoulder and glares at him.

 

“There’s a whole lot of tosh in here, Marik. Do you not throw anything away?”

 

Marik’s brows furrow thoughtfully.

 

“It might actually be in the _second_ drawer.”

 

“Why the bloody hell would you put it in the second drawer? Were you half asleep the last time you wanked one out?”

 

“Um, probably...”

 

Bakura makes an annoyed growling sound that shouldn’t be as hot as Marik finds it and slams the first drawer closed to look in the second one. He calms down quickly when he finds it shortly after. He studies it closely, humour etched into his face.

 

“You’ve been _quite_ busy, haven’t you?”

 

“You don’t know that,” Marik says defensively. “That bottle could be old or new, you don’t know.”

 

Bakura turns the bottle around to reveal the price sticker on it that conveniently has the date of three weeks ago. The bottle’s contents are two-thirds gone. Marik has no words.

 

Bakura chuckles and saunters over to Marik. He runs a hand through Marik’s hair, pinching and making it puff up at the top before laying it down flat.

 

“Oh, what are you embarrassed about? You’re just a perfectly normal gay teenage boy stuck for long periods of time with a hot roommate of the male persuasion who has made his interest clear. Isn’t that right?” He curls some of Marik’s hair behind his ear, voice lowering. “Have I been _frustrating_ you, Marik?”

 

“Not exactly...” Marik looks away. “More like giving me _ideas._ ”

 

Bakura snorts and shakes his head. He climbs back on top of Marik and hands him the bottle. He then rubs their dicks together slowly before lifting his butt up, hands on either side of Marik’s head.

 

“Come on, Marik, turn more of those ideas into a reality for me.”

 

Marik finds this position odd—he’s afraid he’ll accidentally pour the whole bottle on his face—but he manages to keep it in his right hand and carefully rubs his fingers together, making sure to get them covered. He can’t see either, which is a bummer, but he uses his other hand to rub shapes into Bakura’s butt cheek while awkwardly sneaking his fingers where they need to be. He bites his lip when they circle the rim. He meets Bakura’s gaze for guidance.

 

“Go on,” Bakura softly encourages, anticipation making his body shake. “Get inside me.”

 

Marik, in his rush to obey, pushes one finger in all the way far too quickly than he thinks he should have. It slips in easily enough though and Bakura bounces down on it with gusto, head tilting back and moaning loudly. Or maybe it just sounds loud because Bakura is hovering right over him. Seeing the pleasure light up on Bakura’s face just a few spaces away from his face is entirely too pleasant; he doesn’t mind not seeing his fingers now.

 

Unsurprisingly, inside Bakura is strongly heated, but it’s soft too. The internal muscles contract around him as though confused by the intrusion, but Bakura clearly knows what he’s doing because they calm quickly as Marik explores, slipping in and out and twisting curiously. One finger won't help them, so Marik slips in the second one, watching Bakura closely as he does so. Bakura widens his legs and pants, hips gyrating suggestively.

 

Marik scissors his fingers and runs his other hand up the curve of Bakura’s slim back. He holds the back of Bakura’s head and sighs, admiring him openly, feeling deeply happy he can do so now without having to explain himself. He curls his fingers and notices that Bakura’s movements seem deliberate when he follows Marik’s action with a specific thrust back. Marik can tell he wants something and it’s not hard to imagine what.

 

“I’ll find it,” Marik says with confidence, instantly determined to please Bakura further. Bakura just moans.

 

That’s easier said than done though. Marik can only try every angle and push as far as he can go, but he knows it’s in there somewhere and he’s bound to find it eventually if he stays on track. Sure enough, Bakura cries out happily and shows his lack of shame by riding Marik’s fingers repeatedly, shaking and moaning. He clings onto Marik’s shoulders, nails digging harshly into the skin and making Marik wince.

 

“ _Marik,_ oh Marik, _please._ ”

 

The begging is getting to Marik and making him squirm. Bakura’s leaking precum on him now; he watches it slowly drip onto his tummy. He slips his fingers out of Bakura and cups his butt cheeks within his hands, squeezing and massaging them and eliciting a long whine from the spirit. Marik’s eyes fall half-lidded and he licks his lips.

 

“Go for it, my kitten.”

 

It says a lot toward Bakura’s desperation that the second half of Marik’s lovesick words don’t register for Bakura. Instead, Bakura is quickly reaching for the lube bottle lying beside Marik’s arm and pouring it out directly on Marik’s dick, causing Marik to squeak at the cold liquid covering him so suddenly. He throws the bottle somewhere else—Marik hears it hit something and _that_ something fall over and hit the floor, _oh no_ —and then strokes Marik a few times to make sure he’s properly coated; the touch is a little harsh but Marik doesn’t say anything.

 

Satisfied, Bakura grips Marik’s cock properly and doesn’t tell Marik what he’s doing; just slams himself down to the hilt without pause. Marik chokes and unconsciously shoots his hips upward, which makes Bakura bounce up with it and let out an ecstatic shout. Marik’s too busy trying not to cum to really enjoy it.

 

“B-Bakura, virgin, I’m a virgin,” he says quickly, grabbing Bakura’s hips just in case of a sudden free-for-all. Bakura’s muscles hug him snugly and breathe warmth into him; Marik doesn’t know if he wants to move or stay put for eternity. What he does know is he very much wants to last more than _a_ _few seconds_ _._ “I-I know you’re excited, I am too, but I can’t keep up like that, Bakura.”

 

Bakura doesn’t seem to really listen as he rocks in a busy circle, gasping pleasantly.

 

“So big, Marik.”

 

Marik whimpers. That’s it for him; he’s going to be so screwed. He lets go of Bakura’s hips and lets him do whatever he wants. Maybe Marik will be able to handle it?

 

At first, he thinks he can; Bakura continues to rock, eyelids fluttering and scratching his fingernails down Marik’s chest, adjusting to the sensation of him. Then, without warning, he lifts up and down smoothly, mewling softly and gasping out Marik’s name, and sets them off into a brisk pace. Marik closes his eyes and very nearly sobs out a moan at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, reaching out once more to grip onto Bakura’s thighs, not that that’s going to slow him down, but Marik needs an anchor in this sea of endless passion and this will have to do.

 

He is _not_ going to be able to handle this.

 

“Bakura, Bakura,” he tries to get his attention, running his hands up Bakura’s creamy sides and something lurching dangerously inside of him at every fast up and down movement the spirit performs. “Bakura, I’m not going to _last_ —“

 

He thinks that will surely catch Bakura’s attention and make him fall into a pace Marik can actually keep up with; he needs to stay hard long enough for Bakura to get off, right? If he cums early, that’ll leave Bakura unsatisfied and make Marik feel absolutely awful in every way. That _can’t_ happen.

 

Yet Bakura doesn’t change his pace and a sinking feeling blossoms in Marik’s chest, one of apprehension and horror, as everything becomes hard to ignore. He bites back the building sounds and wonders desperately if he can somehow go numb for a few more minutes; anything to keep his dick hard and useful.

 

Then he cums with a sharp shout and he’s left to his own silent mortification for the rest of his life. Holy frig.

 

Except Bakura is whimpering and it sounds pleased. He hasn’t cum though and Marik can’t think of anything else he has done in the last few moments that could have led to that sound.

 

Bakura lolls his head to one side, conveniently exposing the mark Marik’s left on his neck.

 

“Nnnn, you fill me up good, don’t you?”

 

Marik blinks several times. It’s only as Bakura sits up and off his cock and he can see the white substance gradually trickling out of Bakura’s hole that he realizes _that’s_ what Bakura is happy about.

 

Marik opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what he’s going to say. He’s still deeply embarrassed and now desperate to make it up to Bakura somehow, but another blowjob isn’t going to cut it because he promised Bakura they’d make love. What is he supposed to do now?

 

He finds out shortly when Bakura bends down and slides his tongue over Marik’s right nipple. Marik is confused by the attention—he’s certain he doesn’t deserve it—but then he realizes that if he gets aroused again, then he can get back to pleasuring Bakura properly. It’s a great plan so, of course, Bakura is the one to think of it. Marik is known for making things far more complicated than they are.

 

Bakura sucks on Marik’s nipple while pulling on the other with his fingers. Marik gasps and stares up at the ceiling, running a hand absently through Bakura’s hair. The action is calming and stimulating; Bakura’s hair is just so _fluffy._ It falls over Marik’s shoulder and across his chest and chin. It’s so pretty and perfect.

 

Bakura moves down his body, tongue following the movement, and focuses on his navel for a moment, running his tongue around it and then inward, before pulling upward and licking the head of Marik’s twitching penis. It still has cum at the tip and Bakura gladly sucks at it to get all of the remains, startling a pleasant rumble from Marik’s chest. He’s starting to get back into it, letting go of the worries from the previous try to focus on the present. Eventually, he has to push Bakura away because he realizes the spirit might be having too much fun down there. Marik is determined to have a working dick and can’t be too stimulated before entering Bakura again.

 

Bakura whines at the loss, licking his lips, but then he smiles; the genuine curve of pretty pink lips. He lies back and widens his legs, hole still dripping white fluid invitingly. He grabs at his own butt and pulls to widen the hole up to further entice.

 

“Come over here and finish me off, love.”

 

Marik nods quickly, cheeks flushing and cock jumping more between his legs. He begins to crawl over, licking his lips.

 

“You’re so lewd, Fluffy.”

 

Bakura eyes him closely and smiles as though finally realizing something.

 

“You like it. You’ve _always_ liked it. Admit it.”

 

“I like it,” Marik replies easily. “I like you when you're you, Bakura.”

 

Bakura’s lips twist into a knowing smirk.

 

“You like me being domineering and in control. You like me confident and ruthless. It turns you on.”

 

Marik avoids Bakura’s playful gaze; this isn’t a discussion he wants to have right before making love to Bakura again. Instead, he rests his hands on Bakura’s hips and pulls him closer, raising him up so he can slip back in. He assumes Bakura’s still loose from earlier and the added cum inside him should lubricate fine and he’s right. Marik, glad to have a say in the pace now, takes the opportunity to push in slow and really feel Bakura’s minute movements, the pressure and the heat, and sighs deeply, head falling forward.

 

“ _Gods,_ you feel so good.”

 

Bakura reaches up and plays with Marik’s hair. He nibbles his lip, then sighs guiltily.

 

“Sorry.”

 

Marik is surprised. He flicks his eyes up to properly regard Bakura, quickly trying to understand what Bakura is talking about. Bakura doesn’t need any more prompting to continue.

 

“I just wanted to see how quickly I could make you cum. Seeing your responses was addicting and I got... overzealous and lost control. A minute and fifteen seconds is impressive considering what I was doing to you.”

 

Marik grows horrified.

 

“You were _counting?_ ”

 

Bakura just shakes his head.

 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, you’re fine.” He lets out a growl as Marik rests all the way in him. “More than fine. Absolutely fantastic. Let’s go.”

 

“How am I supposed to give it to you now while my mind is still spinning over _one minute and_ _fifteen_ _seconds._ Bakura, that’s _awful._ ”

 

Bakura gives him an annoyed look.

 

“Did you not hear me? I told you it was my fault. We’ll do it at your pace. You’ll last, I promise.”

 

Marik lets out a frustrated sound.

 

“Easy for you to say. You’re advanced, yet resting easily on the bottom. Since I’m topping, I _have_ to last. I’m so inexperienced though I wasn’t even certain what I was supposed to do to even last in the first place!”

 

“Marik,” Bakura says, brows furrowing, “I’m sorry if my actions have made you doubt yourself. Despite what you may think, I don’t think there’s a chance you’ll fall short. If you can’t trust yourself, trust me.”

 

Marik takes in a deep breath and lets it out. It’s hard to chase away the ball of anxiety, but staring at Bakura’s familiar hard features yet soft understanding eyes helps him through it.

 

“I’m going to make you cum,” he says to motivate himself, “so hard the neighbours will hear it.”

 

“Marik, we don’t have any neighbours. We live underground in the middle of nowhere.”

 

Marik leans forward, grabbing Bakura’s legs and pushing them back against his body. He flicks his eyes over Bakura’s pretty face and slowly leans the last few spaces for a sensual kiss.

 

“ _Exactly._ ”

 

Licking open Bakura’s mouth and meeting his tongue, Marik pulls out and then back in, sloppy and mistimed at first before settling into a decent rocking motion like a boat against the moving water below. Bakura’s sounds are small and subtle, not at all like the desperate cries before, but they match Marik’s own, which means he and Bakura are on the same page. Feeling a little more daring, he attempts a deeper and harder thrust, though his pull out is still mild.

 

Bakura gasps and grinds down on him, kissing more passionately. Marik angles his body a few times, breathing heavily through his nose, and thrusts just a tad quicker. He thinks he might be getting the hang of it. After the fifth of those angled thrusts, he finds what he’s looking for; Bakura’s prostate. He smiles as Bakura cries out and keeps a steady pace in that direction. Bakura clings onto his shoulders, the very tips of his fingers brushing against the wings on Marik’s back.

 

Eventually, Marik can’t keep the kiss up while thrusting and pulls away, staring attentively down at Bakura’s face, finding it easy to know what he should do if he watches it for signs. Strong thrusts seem to do the best to the bundle of nerves gathered inside Bakura, but just in case—he’s still worried—Marik lets go of one of Bakura’s legs and uses the free hand to awkwardly stroke Bakura’s leaking cock.

 

“Bakura,” Marik asks in a gasp, “how am I doing?”

 

Bakura’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, a long ecstatic cry tumbling out of his mouth. He presses a fist to it and blinks his eyes dumbly as though in shock. Sounds keep buzzing against his lips.

 

“Bakura?” Marik asks again.

 

It’s like a dam bursting; Bakura, in a rare oddity, is suddenly babbling.

 

“ _Oooooooh,_ you’re good, you’re good. It feels so good. Better than before. The best. Please don’t stop. I want to cum.”

 

“You’re going to,” Marik assures in a murmur, thumb slipping over the tip of Bakura’s cock. Unconsciously, he quickens his pace, eliciting a pleased moan from Bakura.

 

“Marik, I’m close.”

 

Marik startles at this, amazed.

 

“Really?”

 

“ _Yesssss._ Keep moving.”

 

Like Marik’s going to stop. He lets go of Bakura’s cock, deciding it can do well now on its own, and grips Bakura’s hips so he can focus entirely on plowing into him better. He bites his lip as he watches Bakura convulse and give a drawn-out scream of his name. He’s suddenly glad that his talk about neighbours really is false; he doesn’t want anyone but himself to hear Bakura lose control like this.

 

Bakura tightens hard around him, an amazing squeeze that helps him chase Bakura’s orgasm with one of his own, this time a much more pleasant sensation than the previous one. He mutters Bakura’s name like a prayer, kissing his chest. The satisfaction he feels is addictive. He breathes in Bakura’s scent, running his hands up and down wherever he can reach on Bakura’s skin and basks in the silence.

 

Surprisingly, Bakura’s the one to break it.

 

“You’re amazing. A God among men.”

 

Bakura sounds positively drunk; it just feeds Marik’s ego faster. He licks his lips, mouth feeling parched, and smiles when he sits up to look at his lover.

 

“Thanks, Bakura.”

 

Bakura murmurs non-words and flips onto his side. Marik can see the tell-tale signs of Bakura beginning to doze off and another shot of pride runs through him. Bakura snuffs into Marik’s blanket and peeks one eye open. He frowns.

 

“I want to cuddle.”

 

Marik bounces up excitedly at those words, scrambling to curl up behind Bakura without a second thought. He carefully wraps one arm around Bakura’s middle and presses his nose into Bakura’s neck, squeezing up close. He pulls part of the blanket over their lower halves and gives up half-way, hoping his body heat will keep Bakura warm instead. Bakura reaches downward to grasp Marik’s arm and sighs contently.

 

“You know, I’ve never done this before.”

 

“Hmm?” Marik’s brows pinch. “What before?”

 

Bakura makes a gesture Marik can’t quite see.

 

“This. The holding after sex. I don’t know why I suggested it. I don’t do this.”

 

Marik tries very hard not to be disappointed.

 

“So... you don’t want to do it?”

 

Bakura scoffs and turns around to look at him, the familiar irritation on his face settling Marik’s worries down.

 

“I never said that. I just said I didn’t do this before, yet I wanted to now. I was only trying to explain my feelings for you. How did you not get that?”

 

“Sorry,” Marik says quickly, feeling giddy. “I’ve never done this before either. I’m glad you could be my first.”

 

Bakura snorts, a smile blossoming across his face effortlessly and sending Marik’s heart back into overdrive.

 

“That’s not particularly hard, Marik. I’ve been your first everything.”

 

“Yeah,” Marik says softly, pressing their foreheads together, gaze soft, “and I’m glad.”

 

Bakura rolls his eyes playfully and turns back around.

 

“Hold me tighter,” he demands, “and I better see you still there when I wake up.”

 

Marik adjusts his hold, pressing Bakura closer to his chest, and nods.

 

“I will. I won’t leave your side. Ever.”

 

Bakura’s chuckle is brief and Marik listens in the last few minutes as his breathing slows. His own eyes begin to droop from both exhaustion and the comforting warmth of Bakura so close. It’s not hard to give into sleep too.

 

* * *

 

“Marik...”

 

Marik’s eyes flutter open at the small coo of his name and the tickle of fingers softly brushing the hair on his chest. Bakura’s hovering over him, smiling and absolutely lovely, and Marik swallows uncertainly. He reaches out and touches Bakura’s smooth cheek.

 

“I’m not dreaming, am I?”

 

Bakura raises an eyebrow.

 

“No.” Then he smirks slyly, fingertips tapping against Marik’s chest. “Are you usually dreaming about me?”

 

“Constantly. You’re my favourite subject.”

 

Bakura’s smirk widens and he leans forward, peering down at Marik’s face.

 

“Oh, and are they good dreams, Marik?”

 

Marik’s hand slips behind Bakura’s head and guides him down. He chuckles softly.

 

“They’re not as good as being with the real thing, no.”

 

Bakura hums as Marik pulls him into a kiss. It’s chaste and slow, but a buzz of warm happiness accompanies it. They pull away a few minutes later and Marik’s gaze is hopeful.

 

“Does this mean we’re dating now?”

 

Bakura gives him an exasperated look.

 

“Do you even need to ask that?” Noticing Marik’s expectant expression, he sighs heavily. “Yes, Marik, we’re dating. I wouldn’t have said I was in love with you if I wasn’t planning to date you.”

 

“Oh.” Marik smiles with enamour. “I love you.”

 

Bakura grumbles, cheeks growing red and turning his head away. He hides his face in his arm.

 

“You don’t have to keep saying it...”

 

Marik bends over and kisses Bakura on the head.

 

“Yes, I do,” he explains, “because I’ve loved you for years and kept it inside. Now, I have to make up for lost time so you’ll just have to endure it, Fluffy.”

 

Bakura grumbles some more but doesn’t protest. A rumbling sound surfaces from his belly and he lets out a short breath, regarding Marik with annoyed brown eyes.

 

“I’m hungry. Feed me.”

 

Marik snickers and sits up.

 

“Just let me find my clothes. If you’re interested we could have take out.”

 

“Okay,” Bakura agrees, sitting up and wrapping his arms loosely around Marik’s shoulders, pressing his face into his scarred back, nuzzling. “Get me something with chicken in it. I’m in the mood for chicken.”

 

Marik laughs again and gently pats Bakura’s arm.

 

“Got it.” He nods. “Anything else?”

 

Bakura is quiet for a few moments. His breath is suddenly right against Marik’s ear.

 

“I love you, Marik.”

 

Marik stares at the ground, the tips of his toes pressing hard into the carpet. He sighs dreamily.

 

This is way better than any fantasy.


End file.
